


Reversing

by Khaosprinz



Series: Bat Brothers-Verse [8]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Tim Drake is Red Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 10:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18247748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaosprinz/pseuds/Khaosprinz
Summary: [Sequel/Conclusion to "Wrong Turns". Should be read before this one.]Agent 37 was gone. Nightwing was back. And finally, after more than a year, it was time for Dick and Tim to talk about all the ghosts that have been haunting their relationship.





	Reversing

**Author's Note:**

> **Sequel/Conclusion to "Wrong Turns".**  
>  Important information regarding canon/timeline:  
> As I've mentioned, this series is mostly based on/branching off the old DCU but that I will implement certain elements from The New 52. In this case, I'm building off _Forever Evil_ directly and _Requiem_ indirectly. Also _Grayson #12_ is referenced.

Tim and Jason had that… that _thing_. Dick wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it unnerved him. Maybe because he hadn't been there to see it _happen_ , to see that _thing_ develop out of the hostility he had been familiar with and gotten scarily used to. Way too many days spent trying to keep the situation under control so neither would go for the throat of the other. Damian, bless his misguided little soul, hadn’t exactly been a help, either, gleefully throwing turpentine-drenched sticks into the fire and dancing around the flames.

And then he’d died.

The little demon had died, just like that, leaving the three of them behind. Despite all the fighting and snarling and _pain_ , they had grieved, all three of them because he’d been one of _them_. A _Robin_. The current Robin. And they were supposed to look out for one another, to be what their shared mentor couldn’t be – a blanket, a safety net, a haven. None of which they’d asked for but were nonetheless.

And then the Crime Syndicate had happened. And Dick had died, too, except not really. And while he still couldn’t quite bring himself to regret infiltrating Spyral itself, he certainly _did_ regret what it had done to him, to all of them. But someone _had_ to, even if he hadn’t done it for Bruce or his noble goals but for the one thing he cared about so much it regularly scared him – the safety of his brothers. He could still feel his jaw throbbing from Jason’s punch and _he’d deserved it and so much more_. Tim had been right with what he’d said, oh so right, just like he always was but _boy it had stung_. They hadn’t even managed to sort out their issues from before and then he just went and pulled a stunt like that? Faking his death, not even telling them he was okay until months later, putting them through the same grief and mourning he’d been part of way too many times before? Sometimes he doubted he earned their forgiveness, even though it was the one thing he yearned for more than anything else.

But Dick was back now, once again wearing the black and blue and fingerstripes and he felt alive in a way he hadn’t since he’d first donned the scaly panties. The others had taken him back, all of them and they _had_ forgiven him.

But things were still different and he felt it. The dynamics had shifted and he didn’t know how it had happened. Why Jason could suddenly be found staying for a few nights at the manor or at one of their safehouses. Why Red Robin was suddenly patrolling the borders of Crime Alley together with Red Hood. Why Damian was suddenly more bark than bite, the snide remarks toned down, not aiming to hurt and – dare he say it? – more _playful_ than vicious.

The first time he’d seen Tim and Damian interacting in private since his return had left him speechless and frozen to his spot in the door. They’d just sat there, Tim with one of his countless laptops and Damian with his sketchbook, trading insults back and forth with almost peaceful looks on their faces. Or the first time he’d seen Tim and Jason do their – do their _thing_ , that thing where they hung out after patrol on rooftops, eating pizza and doughnuts and cupcakes and just _talking_. Not trying to inflict pain with either their hands or words, no, just talking and bickering and laughing. But that wasn’t _the thing_ , no the thing was the way they parted, with Red Robin perched on whatever railing or ledge was close by like he always seemed to do nowadays and _Red Hood pushing him off the roof_ , all nonchalant, throwing a merry _See ya_ after him and a wave as if he hadn’t just caused his younger brother to fall forty stories down to his death. When he’d seen that, as Nightwing, his jaw had gone slack and he couldn’t stop the red and black from briefly changing to blue and yellow in his mind. Jason had seen his face, read his expression and just waved him off.

_Relax, Bird Boy’s got wings._

But what if –

_Don’t give me this bullshit, you know as well as I do he’s more anal than Bats when it comes to checking his equipment._

But why –

_It’s just… our way to say bye, okay? Things have changed, Nightwing._

I know that –

_No you don’t. You weren’t there. But we… Look. I know Red and I didn’t have the best start, but…_

And that’s helping?

 _It doesn’t have to help. We’re_ – _we’re good now. Okay. Things have_ – we _have changed. We had to. When it was just the two of us. When we were all that was left._

And boy, hadn’t _that_ sent a semtex grenade straight into Dick’s heart. After the initial flare of pain and hurt and _I’m so sorry_ , however, had he looked. Actually _looked_ and he’d seen the exasperated, yet patient and somewhat amused smile and salute Red Robin always wore whenever he was shoved off a roof back first, the way Red Hood’s voice took on a cheerful and almost fond note, his posture relaxed. Seen how Tim just gracefully twisted mid-fall, turning around and spreading his wings and flying off to his next destination, high above the busy streets of Gotham.

But that wasn’t the reason Dick was currently sitting on Tim’s couch, staring at the large TV without actually seeing the pictures ( _Brady Bunch_. Dick had laughed, called Tim Cindy, got called Marcia and he had felt giddy). No, it was –

_You know I’m still pissed at you._

Yeah.

 _It’s okay, though. I’m always pissed at you._ (Was that Jason-speak for “I forgive you, jackass”? Dick liked to believe it was.) _But Bird Boy_ – _Red_ – _Just talk to him._

What do you mean?

 _I mean that_ – _goddamnit, Nightwing, you know I’m crap at this shit. Just go to him. You need to talk to him and he needs to talk to you. And now get out of my face._

And that’s what he had done. But a mere two rooftops later, his comm had crackled to life and a gruff, distorted voice had informed him that Tim had taken the next evening and night off. And without giving Nightwing a chance to answer, only silence had remained.

But here he was now, hating himself for being so nervous about talking to the little brother he’d cherished for so long, he’d let himself _kill_ for. He let his eyes wander – the place was just as messy as it had always been, clothes, magazines, tablets, laptops and video games strewn everywhere, coffee cups in various, partially curious places like the top shelf even Dick had trouble reaching and a bunch of old take-out containers that looked like they were breeding their own family in the corner.

“... So. Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room or not?”, a voice to his left asked, quiet and hesitant yet also determined. 

Dick squinted at the containers. Was there something _moving_ in there? “You mean the large, green one tapdancing on the table and playing the fiddle?”

Tim huffed a laugh. “Yeah. That one.”

Throwing one final, suspicious look at Mr and Mrs Mould and their unruly children, Dick focussed his attention on Tim who sat cross-legged on the couch and averted his gaze, biting his lip. He could almost see the wheels turning.

“... You know, I can only say what I said before. I’m sorry for lying to you, to all of you”, Dick finally started after a few moments of silence, voice calm and sincere but there was a hint of _something_. “But I still don’t regret doing it. It was for you guys’ safety, too, and that’s all that matters.”

To his surprise, though, Tim shook his head, giving him a dry, thin-lipped smile. “That’s… not what I meant, but you don’t have to pretend anymore. I know you wanted to tell us, practically begged Bruce to let you. Jason… _sort of_ beat it out of him.”

Dick winced. _Oh God, no_. Tim breathed another laugh, only partially humorous.

“Don’t worry, no one was hurt… much. Just a few bruises. But some time after you had to leave again, we started thinking and… some things just didn’t add up. I know you’ve had your differences, but even Jason knows you wouldn’t knowingly hurt any one of us like that, so he started digging until Bruce admitted that he forbade you from saying anything to the two of us. And that you apparently just said _screw him_ at one point and told us anyway.”

Scratching at his neck, Dick threw another sideways glance, a wry half-grin on his lips. “Busted, eh? Don’t let that stuff get between you guys and Bruce, though”, he warned, furrowing his brows. 

Tim waved him off. “We’re… used to it. We complained, we raged – or, well, Jason did most of that, actually – and we got over it. We _did_ get you back after all, right? And in the end, that’s all that matters.”

Dick couldn’t keep the slightly sappy smile from sneaking onto his lips. He had the best brothers _ever_.

The fluttering in his chest soon died, however, when Tim suddenly let out a long, agonised breath, face contorting into a grimace.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I…”, he hesitated again, eyes staring up into nothingness as he seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “I owe you an apology, too. And an explanation. But – _God, Dick, I’m so sorry_.”

Dick blinked. “Huh? Wha –”

“For when I – you remember that day Jason and I crashed at your safehouse? When you were just being… _you_ , I guess, and I totally blew a fuse?” 

He nodded. He couldn’t have forgotten even if he’d wanted to. He had to point out one thing, though. “But you didn’t really... blow up on me? You actually kind of –”

“Imploded, yes”, Tim nodded, sagging his shoulders and suddenly looking even smaller than usual. Dick had to resist the urge to pull him into a hug right then and there. “It was just – I was – Look, I was… in a bad spot there. You know that, hell, everyone knows and I…” He trailed off once again, biting his lip and kneading his hands as he struggled to find his words. 

Something suddenly dawned on Dick and he let out a long breath, something akin to resigned irritation swirling in his ribcage.

“... It was me firing you. Taking Robin away”, he said flatly. Tim flinched back as if he’d been hit, but he just couldn’t just find it in himself to give that more than a parenthetical thought. He’d explained his reasoning, hadn’t he? More than once. Granted, the execution might have been lacklustre but he still stuck to his choice. He almost couldn’t believe Tim was still –

“Yes. No. Kind of?”, Tim ultimately offered, meeting his eyes briefly and Dick could see the almost desperate need to come clean in them. He shifted a little, suppressing the urge to cross his arms in front of his chest.

“No, I… I understand why you did, honestly, I do. Damian needed it… at least more than I did”, he added softly, but then he shook his head as if to lose the trail that particular thought was about to take. “No, it’s not that you fired me. It’s – how do I put this?” Huffing in frustration, Tim rubbed forcefully at the side of his head, causing his black locks to puff up, sticking out in all directions. “It’s the – you said you couldn’t order me around because I was your… equal, right?” 

Dick nodded, still a little defensive, but that was just as much the truth as it had been almost two years ago. When Tim continued speaking, it was slow, as if he was carefully measuring the words, calculating their possible impact. Dick waited. 

“I… liked that. The idea. Still do. But you didn’t really… _act_ on it.” Tim paused, gauging his reaction. 

Dick stared back, brain going into overdrive to try and figure out what exactly _that_ was supposed to mean. He came up with nothing. Shifting where he sat on the couch, he turned to the side, leaning against the armrest, to get a better look at his brother. “I… don’t think I’m following here”, he admitted, frowning.

“Can I be completely honest with you? No holds barred, even though it's going to make me sound like a gigantic prat?”, Tim suddenly asked and he met Dick’s gaze now, eyes burning. 

He couldn’t do anything but nod. “You can always be honest with me, Tim.”

Tim suddenly laughed, the sound startlingly watery, but he smiled and even though there were hints of pain and regret, it didn’t seem forced.

“And I should’ve been back then, then we wouldn’t be here…”, he muttered before straightening his back. “What actually… bothered me so much wasn’t the firing itself – it was… even if I understand _why_ , it still hurt. It fucking _hurt_ , Dick, and then you were all…”

And ice-cold shiver ran down Dick’s spine as Tim desperately tried to think of how to make his feelings clear. Now that he thought about, he had never actually _apologised_ , had he? He’d defended himself and Damian, his reasoning for doing what he did – but he had never even once stopped to consider the bigger picture, the consequences of his actions on a personal level outside of the masks. He tried to imagine what it must’ve felt like for Tim and his chest constricted painfully. But before he could force a single word out of his suddenly dry throat was Tim already continuing, apparently giving up on trying to find the correct term.

“... Patronising isn’t the right word, and _I know_ you weren’t trying to be, you were just trying to look out for me, but it’s the only one I can think of right now. But we both know that I made Robin into something more than just Batman’s sidekick, right? You know as well as I do that halfway through, I was usually patrolling on my own, fighting my own battles, following my own cases. So I felt like you were… underestimating me? Seeing the Robin you used to be in me? But at the same time, you fired me and said I was ready to become something bigger and I guess I did, and you all kept coming to me to help you and then the story with Bruce and that just…” Tim trailed off and realisation suddenly hit Dick like a brick.

“... made you feel like we were pushing you to stand on your own feet without actually trusting you to do it”, he finished, slightly horrified. “Me in particular.” It had never even occurred to him that Tim could’ve felt that way, that definitely wasn’t what he’d been thinking. He’d just wanted to look out for his little brother.

“Yeah”, the younger nodded once, “like you… threw me into the cold water and then chided me for freezing a little. And that morning, that day, I just – I know I completely blew it out of proportion, but –”

“That was just the final straw that broke the camel’s back, huh?”, Dick supplied and received another nod. Now that the things that had been plaguing him for the better part of two years were finally off his chest, the tension in his body uncoiled and he slumped back into the cushions. Tim gave him a tired yet also slightly tight smile, as if he was still scared of something. Dick returned it, small but affectionate.

“C’mere”, he said warmly, holding out his arms and the smile on his face turned into a grin when he saw the pure, unadulterated relief blossoming on Tim’s face before he let himself pitch to the side, legs uncurling, and wrapped his arms around Dick’s torso.

“I’m sorry about that, little brother”, he said quietly, pressing Tim close, burying his nose in his hair. “About everything. I never meant to make you feel that way.”

He could feel Tim chuckling against his chest and fingers curling into his shirt. “I know. I felt so _horrible_ for… what I did as soon as I cooled off again. I wanted to apologise so _badly_ but I didn't know _how_ and then all the other shit happened and when I thought you were- when I thought you were _dead_ , I –” His breath hitched a little and Dick tightened his hold, rubbing small circles on his back in an attempt to soothe him.

“I know, I know”, he assuaged, ignoring the way his heart seemed to be simultaneously somersaulting and slowly falling apart only to knit itself back together, all the while pounding wildly against his ribs. Resting his cheek on the top of Tim’s head, Dick could feel his brother letting out a shaky breath and squeezing him tightly once more before slowly pulling away. He gave Tim his best smile – not the wide, beaming kind that made people say he looked like a lovable but mentally underdeveloped loon, no. It was the one where the corners of his mouth curled upwards just enough to show some teeth, honest and sincere and gentle and filled to the brim with love and affection. Tim returned the gesture, small and somewhat shy and his eyes were shining as he settled back into a sitting position, one foot on the floor and the other folded underneath his opposite thigh. Dick gave his knee a little squeeze before moving as well, shifting until they were shoulder to shoulder, propping his feet up on the low table and crossing them at the ankles.

“So”, he started, “now that _that’s_ finally off the table, how about we got back to the family, Cindy?”, he asked with a grin while nodding towards the TV, lightly bumping his arm against his brother’s. Tim laughed and Dick took a moment to relish the sound – it really had been way too long since he’d last heard it that free, unforced.

“Sounds like a plan, Marcia”, Tim replied, grabbing the previously forgotten remote, and Dick could hear the alleviation and contentment in his voice.

They both stayed silent during the opening scene but Dick could soon feel Tim moving again. He glanced to the side and saw the younger leaning his head against the backrest of the couch, throat bared, watching the TV through half-lidded eyes.

“I missed this”, Tim admitted quietly, peacefully, as he let his head roll to the side until it rested against Dick’s shoulder. An arm looped around his own.

“Me, too, kiddo”, Dick agreed equally softly, reaching over to put one hand on Tim’s arm, giving it a light squeeze, and leant his cheek against the top of his brother’s head. “Me, too.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _This was so hard to write._ Omg.  
> But well. This is finally the conclusion to the long-standing problems between Tim & Dick. I hope I got the emotion across because _omfg emotions_. I'm garbage with emotions, but w/e, I hope I did them justice. Hopefully, Dick doesn't come across as stupid or dense for not noticing this. I was aiming for... well, that he honestly just didn't realise the effects of his actions when they were nothing but well-intentioned.  
> Also, in case you're confused about the timeline in my head for this series, feel free to ask for details but in general, it's just a weird mash-up of me stuffing New52-elements into the old DCU, sometimes out of order. Lol.  
> Please let me know if there are any errors.  
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
